


So It Goes

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Series: The Drug Cartel AU [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mafia AU, SHEITH - Freeform, mentions of sex at the beginning, the rest is fluff, wedding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 14:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10362291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: Keith makes it to the wedding he thought would never happen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> someone asked about their wedding and i surprised even myself when i actually finished writing this? i guess i just really love the dynamics this fic lets me write them in
> 
> also this au is finally getting some backstory who woulda thought

**Then**

They met in a club.

How could they meet anywhere else?  That’s just where Keith always happened to be.

It was someone’s birthday, maybe?  Or he had crashed some poor unsuspecting fools’ bachelor party?  He couldn’t remember.  Just that the floor was hot, the music was loud and the lights were bright.  The mass of bodies swaying and gyrating to the beat spilling from the speakers filled Keith with a kind of energy, a thrum deep in his blood that pumped through his veins.  His hips swayed to the beat, shorts low on his hips, tank top riding up slightly as the guy who was grinding up against him felt over his skin.

Keith wasn’t too sure what the guy looked like, had only walked onto the floor and started dancing like the world was ending.  He hadn’t meant to attract a partner.  Not like he was complaining, especially when the man pressed an impressive hard on up against the seam of his shorts.

 “Fuck, I wanna take you home, baby,” the guy was saying, whispering low into Keith’s ear.  Keith smirked, dancing a little bit closer to his partner. 

“You’ll have to buy me a drink first,” Keith answered, tossing his hair enticingly.  The man chuckled, let out a gust of hot air onto Keith’s sweating skin, then peeled himself off Keith’s backside to make his way over to the bar.  Keith got a glimpse as he was leaving; nice hair, good build, decent ass.  Yeah.  Keith could make do with this for the night.

Keith danced in place, barely losing his rhythm even without the solid mass to back him up.  He had his eyes shut, letting the thrumming energy wash through his limbs.  Held his arms up above his head and slammed his heeled boots into the floor. 

Then he looked up.

To this day, Keith always looked back on that moment, and wondered if he looked up because he had felt it.  Felt the eyes on him.  Those smokey grey ones, belonging to an impossibly gorgeous face, scar across the nose be damned.  His shock of white hair reflected the ever changing colours of the club.   Keith’s movements halted, staring back at the man who now had his attention.  This man was all thick muscles and held a confident aura around his shoulders as he watched Keith from the bar.

Keith watched back with violet eyes that gleamed under the pulsing lights, silently challenging this stranger.

Then some other guy was talking to the man, blocking Keith’s view.  He was tall and skinny and handed the man a beer, gesturing in a direction.  They both headed that way.  Keith followed them with his eyes, noticing they were headed for the set of glass stairs that would lead up to the VIP section. 

Yet, just as they were to reach it, the man turned again, found Keith amongst the swarm of writhing bodies, and smiled at him. 

Keith almost fainted right in the middle of the dance floor.

A row of perfect teeth sparkled at him, reaching the man’s eyes and making them sparkle.  How was that even possible?  They were grey.  They couldn’t sparkle.  Keith licked his lips, not realising how dumbfounded he probably looked, lusting after this man who had rendered him stock still from just a damn smile.  

Mr. Gorgeous Eyes had the nerve to wink at him, before continuing on his way.

Keith sputtered, then gathered his courage and stormed across the dance floor.  There was no way he was letting this man get away with cheek like that.

He strolled through the crowd, managing to catch the pair at the rope without hurrying too much.  The bouncer nodded over the man’s shoulder, who turned and eyed Keith like he had been expecting him.  The tall and skinny one had paused mid-way up, confused.  Keith couldn’t worry about him right now.

When he reached Mr. Shock Of White Hair, his boots gave him just enough height that he didn’t totally cower under this man’s enormous presence.  The man gave him another smile.  Keith’s knees almost gave out.  Honestly, even if this man wasn’t six foot, all muscle and had obviously already been through his fair share of trouble (if the scars peeking out from under his shirt had anything to say about it), Keith still got the feeling this man would know how to command a room, demand attention. 

“Hi,” Keith breathed, just loud enough to be heard over the booming music.

“Hey,” Mr. I Make Dentists Cry answered.

They stared each other down, neither looking away.  Mr. Tall, Dark and Killer held Keith’s gaze, never lowered his eyes, yet Keith got the feeling he was still, somehow, raking over Keith’s figure, assessing what he saw.  Keith jutted a bony hip, smirked up at him and stepped a little closer.

“Keith,” was all he said, his chest now brushing the dress shirt that adorned Mr. Diamond Eyes’ large chest.  Keith tried not to drool at what it would be like to have all that thick muscle looming over him, dominating him.

“Hi, Keith,” was all the man said in reply.  “What can I do for you?”

Keith tried not to seem down trodden, even though the answer totally threw him.  He hid his disappointment well, making sure he kept his posture and never, ever, tore his eyes away from Mr. Apparently Too Good For Keith.

“How about buying me a drink?” Keith asked, tilting his head, letting his hair fall on his cheeks slightly. 

The man laughed.

“Forgot your wallet or something?”

“Yeah.  Sure.  Let’s go with that.”

Another laugh.  Which, no surprise there, made Keith want to push down his shorts and just let this hunk of spunk take him where they stood.

“I actually have something I need to do right now,” the man replied, slowly inching away from Keith.

Oh, no.  No way in hell.  Keith wasn’t letting this one go.  Keith went guns out, all in. 

He threw his arms over Mr. I’m The Width of Four of You’s shoulders, leant into him heavily so he had no choice but to lean into Keith, less they both fall.  Keith let their lips go close, their breath tangling between them.

“Is that ‘something’ me?  I fucking hope so.”

Mr. Tri-Coloured Hair But Somehow He Makes it Work went still, hesitating only slightly before looping a thick arm around Keith’s waist and pulling their bodies closer.  Keith relaxed into it, welcomed it, didn’t mind the kink in his neck that was forming from being so close to this man, from having to continuously look up at his gorgeous features.

“It can be,” was what the man replied with.

Keith grinned as he was ushered up the stairs.  He had only ever been up to the VIP section one other time, when he had managed to pick up a guy who had bought a table for the night.  Turned out he couldn’t hold his liquor, however, and Keith spent the night trying to get the vomit stains out of what had been a very expensive shirt.

Keith hoped to God this time would be different.

“Who’s your friend, Shiro?” someone asked as he was led to a table behind a gossamer curtain, a variety of people already sitting around the small, closed off area, sipping martinis and champagne probably more expensive than Keith’s weekly rent. 

The man, Shiro, briefly introduced them all.  Names were given to faces, and Keith was already forgetting them.  He could only seem to concentrate on the hot hand on the small of his back, which was already worming its way under his tank top to trace the soft skin there.

The group of friends were totally forgotten, on both their accounts, as Shiro bought Keith a few drinks, asked him about his life, where he worked, what he liked doing in his spare time.  Then Shiro was telling some story, one that had Keith laughing so hard he had to put his drink down.  All the while, Shiro kept a firm hand on Keith’s thigh, traced a line between the freckles dotting his pale skin.  Keith toyed with Shiro’s fingers, tracing the lines in the metallic palm, even making up some bullshit that he could tell fortunes and gave some spiel about how Shiro would soon find something that would make him very happy.

Shiro grinned at Keith, giving him a knowing look.  He pushed black hair behind Keith’s ear, whispering into the lobe, asking him if he wanted to dance.

Keith readily agreed.

Back in the heaving mass of sweating bodies, Keith pulled Shiro close by his belt loops, began swaying his hips gently, keeping eye contact.  Shiro grinned at him, hands on Keith’s hips, guiding their bodies together.  It wasn’t the usual, vigorous dry humping Keith was used to on the dance floor, more of a slow, and sensual sway of bodies. 

Shiro pushed so that Keith had his back to Shiro’s chest.  Their hips rolled against each other, languidly, almost lazily.  Keith had his head turned the other way, letting Shiro breathe on his neck, light kisses already being pressed to the skin.  Warm hands slid up his thigh, a thumb trailed right up under the leg of his shorts.  Keith could tell the exact moment Shiro realised he wasn’t wearing any underwear, the shocked gasp seeming to reverberate on his skin and through his veins.  Keith gave himself a pat on the back for forgetting to do his laundry earlier in the week.

“You are, definitely, something else,” Shiro was saying, loud in Keith’s ear.

The rest of the world had seemed to fall away.

Keith turned in Shiro’s arms, pressing their bodies together and looking up into Shiro’s smouldering eyes.

“A good something else?” Keith asked coyly.

“Hell yeah,” Shiro replied.  They had stopped dancing, rather just standing there, in the middle of all the motion, holding each other.

Keith realised, much later, he might have fallen in love right there and then.

“Wanna take this ‘something else’ home and have a good time with him?”

“If he’ll let me.”

Keith smiled.  A genuine, happy, carefree smile.

“Honey, I’ll let you have me anyway you want.”

\---

The taxi ride back to Keith’s was eventful, to say the least. 

As soon as they were piled into the back, Keith was on him.  Crawling into Shiro’s lap, pressing their lips together, rolling his hips.  Shiro was surprised at first, then quickly recovered and grabbed Keith’s ass.  Keith whimpered, the friction on his crotch sending shooting sparks all over his skin.  He nipped Shiro’s lips, Shiro grinned, pushing Keith’s hair away from his face and kissing down his neck. 

Keith sighed.

Shiro paid for the cab, Keith eyeing the generous tip left for the noise they had been making.

Then they were practically sprinting up the stairs of Keith’s apartment complex.  The building was old, so the sound echoed up through the floors and probably through each of his neighbour’s doors, but as Keith was pushed against his own door and had the breath kissed out of him, he couldn’t seem to care. 

Shiro shoved a knee in-between his thighs, Keith automatically grinding down onto it, needy and breathless as Shiro finally opened his apartment and pushed them through.

“How do you want me?” Keith gasped, dragging Shiro towards his bed, biting at Shiro’s skin and fumbling with his belt.

Shiro took one moment to pull Keith’s tank top off of him, sliding it up his thin torso and chucking it into some other part of the apartment.  Then shoved so Keith was splayed onto his mattress, legs already spread as Shiro crawled in between them and asserted himself over Keith’s submissive form.

“Like this,” he answered, locking their lips together in a kiss Keith could feel in his bones.

When Shiro tugged open Keith’s shorts, he ripped them.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Keith lifted his hips so Shiro could pull them the rest of the way off his legs, over his boots.  “That was so hot I’m not even mad.”

Shiro laughed, lying back on top of Keith and kissing his collar bones, his shoulder, his neck.  Keith let out a sigh, their cocks rubbing together as Shiro began to roll their hips in an enticing rhythm. 

The fucked like that.

Keith had never been much of a fan of the missionary position, but Shiro seemed to rebirth the concept of vanilla sex as he worked his hips into Keith.  Keith moaned and gasped, clutching at sweaty biceps, raking his nails down solid muscles, moaning Shiro’s name over and over. 

The thing about Shiro was that he fucked like an animal, but kissed like a lover.  He held Keith’s jaw with one hand, moulded their lips together, worked his tongue against Keith’s.  Keith moaned into it, spit swapping, lips smacking, jaws working.  It was disgusting. 

Keith loved every minute of it.

When they were done, Keith lay sweaty, naked and out of breath on the covers, head resting on Shiro’s chest, who wasn’t exactly better off either.  Shiro had a hand in Keith’s hair, clutching at his sweaty locks, pulling at them every so often.  Keith kissed Shiro’s chest, working his way up until he was nipping at Shiro’s jaw, then placed their lips together again.

To say he had gotten addicted to Shiro’s kisses was an understatement.

\---

**Now**

Keith can’t sleep.

He rolls over in his bed, huffs, glares at the wall of his room for a moment, then rolls over again. 

He listens to the waves outside his window, feels the breeze stir his hair, feels the boat rock steadily.  None of it does anything to calm him, to make him feel relaxed enough to close his eyes and let himself rest.

He feels too agitated, too wound tight, and he’s not sure whether it’s the confined space he finds himself in, the jitters flapping low in his belly at the anticipation of tomorrow, or the bed that was empty except for himself.  He rolls over, one more time, to lay on his back and spread out his arms, covering the width of the mattress. 

He misses Shiro.

Keith isn’t afraid to admit it to himself.

He misses Shiro, even though he saw him not two hours ago. 

It’s only been six weeks since that night, the night Lance and the rest of the gang herded him into a van and kidnapped him, transporting him halfway around the world to reconcile with his thought-to-be dead fiancé.  Yet Keith had no trouble adjusting to the pleasure, to the warmth, to the elatedness he felt every morning he opened his eyes and found Shiro there.

Keith had slipped back into Shiro’s life as if he had never left, tailing Shiro throughout the day, acting as his confidant and ally to his business as he made deals and negotiations with gangs and buyers all over the world.  At night, they curled around each other in the privacy of their room, whispered sweet nothings and shared soft touches, more often than not though, they were passionate kisses and heavy strokes of pleasure, desperate to make up for lost time.

So, Keith shouldn’t be surprised to find it jarring that, six weeks later, here he lay, in a suite, on a yacht, out in the middle of international waters, lying by himself in a bed as he counted down the minutes until he could see Shiro again.

Keith quickly did the math in his head.

It was going on eleven o’clock now, but their ceremony wasn’t scheduled until four in the afternoon. 

That was seventeen hours.  Seventeen hours _more_ he had to wait until he could see his lover again.  Seventeen hours until the title of fiancé officially became husband, until their vows were exchanged and their lives would be intertwined, legally and spiritually.  Seventeen hours until Keith could push himself up on his tip toes and seal their lips together again, because in seventeen hours, it will have been nineteen hours since he had last kissed Shiro. 

He was only in hour two and he was already going crazy with withdrawal.

“Dammit, Allura,” Keith muttered under his breath.

Because it was Allura who was adamant about the two of them spending their final night apart, to make the wedding night seem more special.  Keith wanted to remind her they had spent a year apart already and shouldn’t that count for something?

“It’s tradition!” She had exclaimed, waggling a finger in Keith’s face. 

Allura was heavily old fashioned, and stubborn to boot, so Keith was forced to look fleetingly over his shoulder as he was ushered away from Shiro and to a separate room on the yacht.  He hadn’t even been able to kiss Shiro good night.

Keith groaned, crawling out of bed and wandered over to the stereo that sat in the corner.  He looked over some of the CDs on the shelf, fingering over the titles, before resting on a ‘Best of Elvis Presley – Love Songs Edition’ that he recognised as the same copy Shiro kept in his car.  The same one Shiro would blast through the speakers while they lay together on the hood, nothing but fields and sky around them, Shiro’s arms wound tight around his waist, singing along to the lyrics against Keith’s hair. 

It was the same songs Shiro would hum to help Keith sleep better, on the nights he woke up sweating and feverous, nightmares of their year apart still plaguing him even now.

Keith slot the CD into the machine, turning down the volume and letting the soft, deep tones of Elvis’ voice fill the room.  He sighed, a sense of familiarity already making him feel slightly calmer, more inclined to relax.  He swayed in place a little, just for a moment, imagining Shiro was in the room with him, dancing him around the room, the light of the moon peaking in through the balcony doors their only vice. 

Keith grinned, turning back to the bed, determined to sleep to make the night go faster, to make the day come faster, so he could see Shiro faster.

Though just as he got comfortable in bed again, there was a soft knock on the door.  He leant up on his elbow, frowning at the wood.  The door then creaked open, a large body sliding through the small opening it had made and carefully pushing it shut.  Keith gasped, noting the familiar metal arm that caught the rays of the moon as the figure snuck over to his bed.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Shiro whispered, kneeling over Keith.  Shiro cupped Keith’s jaw, lacing their lips together and pushing him back into the sheets.  Keith let himself go boneless, Shiro pulling the covers over them both as he got comfortable beside Keith, his kisses moving down Keith’s neck and over his collarbones, nipping at his naked chest.

Keith giggled.

“What are you doing here?” Keith whispered.  “Allura will kill us if she finds out!”

Shiro’s first answer was another hot kiss to Keith’s mouth.  Keith giggled again, kissing Shiro back, arms looping around his neck, pulling him closer.

Shiro’s second answer was more informative.

“I hate sleeping without you.”

Keith grinned at his fiancé, hiding his blush in Shiro’s neck, though knowing Shiro couldn’t have seen it in the dark anyway.

“Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding…or the groom?” Keith asked, letting Shiro pull him closer, winding their bodies together, Keith revelling in the warmth Shiro brought to him.

“Babydoll, I feel like we’ve had all the bad luck possible.  I think we’ve earnt the right to spend tonight together.”

Keith agreed, kissing Shiro once, twice, thrice, before settling into his arms.

Shiro kissed Keith’s hair, ran a hand up and down his spine, and began singing to the words playing from the stereo, soft voice flowing comfortably around Keith’s form.

_“…only fools rush in, but I can’t help, falling in love with you.”_

Keith was asleep within minutes.

\---

**Then**

Keith woke up the next day to the smell of bacon and eggs.  It wafted over the expanse of his apartment to where he was still passed out.  He roused eventually though, sniffing at the air, recognising the smell of food, good food, hot food, and sat up.  He could see Shiro in his kitchen from his bed, could see Shiro walking between the stove and counter like he did it every morning, thick and beautiful, already dressed in the clothes he had on the night before, his hair still damp and slicked back from when he had taken a shower. 

Keith’s brows pinched. 

It’s not that he was mad Shiro was still here, more just confused.  Normally his one-night stands had the decency to leave in the morning before he woke up, making it easier for Keith to go about his morning without the added awkwardness.  Keith wasn’t good at dealing with people beyond getting what he wanted.  A trait that seemed to run in his family.

Yet even so, Keith didn’t feel awkward that Shiro was still here.  He almost felt happy about it.  Excited.

Keith clambered out from under the covers, pulled a random shirt off his floor and, after successfully completing The Sniff Test, threw it on.  He walked into the kitchen almost cautiously, throwing himself up to sit on the counter, crossing his legs and bouncing them as Shiro moved around his kitchen.

“Hi there,” Keith said tauntingly.  Shiro smiled at him as he flipped pancakes.

Keith noted he had made the batter from scratch.

“Sleep well?” Shiro asked, moving to toss the bacon, while reaching for a pot of coffee and pouring a cup.  He finished with the bacon and then brought the cup over to Keith.

Keith uncrossed his legs and let Shiro in-between them.

“Yeah, this guy, like, screwed me so hard I pretty much passed out,” Keith took the coffee with a thankful nod, sipping at it.  It was good.  Amazing even.

“Oh?” Shiro played along, leaning on the counter, his hands either side of Keith’s thighs.  “Must be some guy.”

“Oh, yeah!” Keith took another sip.  “Sharp eyes, sleek jaw, clean shaven.  Built like a truck and fucked like one too.”

“I’ve never had sex with a piece of machinery so I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”  Keith almost snorted his coffee out through his nose.  “But I’ll take your word that it’s as good as you say it is.”

Keith laughed, placing his coffee somewhere on the counter beside him and leant into Shiro’s space.  Shiro leant in too.  Their lips met, sweet and languid.  Keith put his arms around Shiro’s neck, carefully scratching at the grain of his undercut. 

Keith knew he should think of this as weird, making out with his fuck from the night before in his kitchen while the man in question cooked him breakfast and made him orgasmic coffee, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel like that.  It just felt warm and peaceful.  Like this was just the beginning of many mornings exactly like this.

Keith, at the time, thought that to be absurd.

As Shiro pulled away, placing one last kiss on the corner of Keith’s mouth, he turned to pull the bacon from the pan and slip the pancakes onto a plate.  Keith watched him work, sipped at his coffee.

Then it occurred to him.

“Hang on a second!”

Shiro hummed, turning to Keith and bringing the plates with him.  He asked if Keith could bring the coffee pot and the plate of eggs.  Keith did so, following Shiro out onto his tiny balcony where Shiro had already set his mismatched patio furniture that Keith never used with knives, forks and a vase with a flower in it. 

Okay, it was a thistle, but the thought was there.

“I don’t keep food in my apartment.  Not food like this.”

Shiro put the plates down and took his seat.  Keith did the same.

“Well that was painfully obvious when I opened your fridge this morning and all I found was a stale power bar and a six pack of redbull.  My apologies if I was snooping; I was looking for water.”

“It comes from the tap.”

“Cold water.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t keep stuff like that around here.”

Shiro chuckled.

Keith looked at the spread.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meal like this.  Had sat down with someone like this, with the intent of having a pleasant conversation over home cooked food while the world went on its merry way around them.

“I assumed so.  I bought it.”

Keith stared at Shiro, dumbfounded.  His confusion didn’t seem to stop Shiro, who took a gulp from his own cup of coffee and began on the pancakes.

“Let me get this straight,” Keith scratched at his head, trying to wrap his mind around this turn of events.  “You _left_ before I woke up, walked into a grocery store, bought food and _came back_ to cook me breakfast?”

Shiro just grinned at him.  Keith could only smile back, before drowning his pancakes in maple syrup and stuffing half of them into his mouth at once.  At least he had the self-decency to help Shiro clear the plates after, left them to soak in the sink before dragging Shiro towards his bathroom. 

“But I’ve already showered,” Shiro was telling him, though his tone was playful and his hands were already creeping up the back of Keith’s thighs, teasing his ass under the over-sized t-shirt. 

Keith paused when they reached the bathroom door.

“So, you’re telling me you _don’t_ want a blowjob as payment for slaving over a hot stove all morning?  You _don’t_ want to see me wet, naked and horny all over again?  You _don’t_ want me to choke on your dick?  I’m a little hurt.”

Shiro gave Keith an amused look, before hooking his large hands under Keith’s ass and hoisting him up so Keith had no choice but to wrap his thighs around Shiro’s waist with a startled laugh.  Keith held on as Shiro trudged the rest of the way to the shower, turned it on and got Keith undressed, all while still holding him up with one arm.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Keith commented.  He let the water turn warm before falling to his knees and getting to work.

\---

Shiro waited until Keith was clean and dressed before announcing he had to leave, and even then kissed Keith good bye at the door.  It was a sweet kiss.  A temperamental one.  A gentle one.  Keith kissed Shiro like he didn’t want him to leave (he didn’t), like this was only a temporary parting of the ways and Shiro would soon return.

In short, they kissed like boyfriends.

Keith knew that was ridiculous, even as Shiro shifted his head so he could kiss Keith at a new angle, for just a little longer.  Knew this would be the last time he would see Shiro, knew they’d probably never cross paths again.  He could ask for Shiro’s number, tell him to call if he was ever in town again, but when Keith opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t come out.

Shiro looked at him, where he was cupping Keith’s cheeks with gentle hands, like he was holding something precious, an expectant look in his eyes.  Keith told himself that no, there’s no way Shiro was disappointed, when all he said was to have a nice afternoon. 

Shiro nodded, gave Keith one last chaste kiss and left.

\---

They were dating within the month.

**\---**

**Now**

They were right in assuming Allura would be angry with them come morning.  She came into Keith’s room to rouse him for a late breakfast before beginning to get ready for the wedding, only to find him already lying on top of his lover, lazily mouthing at Shiro’s jaw, and tracing his fingers lightly over the scars on Shiro’s chest.  She scowled disappointedly at the both of them.

“Honestly, you two!” She scolded, having managed to drag Shiro out from under Keith and was pushing him toward the door.  “One night!  That’s all I asked!”

Shiro only waved to his fiancé good-bye.

“I’ll see you later, babydoll!” Shiro called.

“I’ll be the one in white!” Keith called back.

Allura summoned Hunk to guard Shiro and make sure he didn’t come wandering back in before the ceremony, before promptly shutting the door to Keith’s suite and locking them out.

Keith only gave her a mischievous smile from where he was resting on the pillows.  Allura rolled her eyes at him, though Keith could see the beginnings of a coy smile forming on her lips.

Breakfast was toast, coffee and fruit, Allura mentioning she didn’t want to give Keith anything that might upset his stomach so close to the ceremony.

“But I’m not nervous,” he declared, taking a large bite out of a juicy peach. 

“Impossible!” Allura was saying, taking his white tuxedo and dress shirt out of the closet and laying it down on the bed.  “You’re melding your life with another!  How can that not be nerve wracking?!”

Keith shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.  “Just isn’t.”

“Honestly, Keith, if this was my wedding I don’t think I’d be able to sit still at all!” she was fussing over his shirt, picking off imaginary pieces of lint.

“I don’t know,” Keith repeated, crunching on his toast.  “You live without your lover for a year and you pretty much don’t have anything left to be scared of; least of all spending the rest of your life with them.”

Allura abruptly stopped, standing up straight and turning to Keith.

“Oh, Keith.  I’m so sorry.  I completely forgot about that.”

Keith just looked at her, marmalade smeared across his cheek.  He shrugged again.

“S’kay.  I’m pretty much over it now.”

A lie. 

Keith still woke up regularly, sweating and convulsing and screaming for Shiro.  But those few moments when Keith would awake from his nightmares, when he had to question what was real, to question what was the dream and what was the reality, were the moments that haunted him the most. Thankfully, Shiro was always there to hold him, to keep the nightmares at bay. 

Still, he didn’t like worrying his new friends.

Allura stopped fussing over his tuxedo, making her way over to sit with Keith at the table, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  She added creamer and a cube of sugar before speaking.

“It was hard for you, wasn’t it?” she asked, carefully.

“To think my boyfriend was dead?  A little.”

Allura almost cracked a smile at his obvious sarcasm.

“I know it was hard for Shiro, but he, at least, knew you were alive.  Knew you’d be together again.  He never stopped worrying though; never stopped fretting he’d be too late.”

Keith stopped eating, putting down his toast.

“Too late?  Too late for what?”

Allura sipped at her coffee before replying, choosing her words carefully.

“Oh, every week it was something different.  Drug addiction, suicide.  He was scared you’d run away and he wouldn’t be able to find you.  Or that you’d find someone else.”

Keith scoffed at the thought.

“Yeah, right.  Like I could ever love anybody other than Shiro.”

Allura smiled warmly at him.

“I got that feeling, from what little I knew of you.  I got the feeling you didn’t commit easily, but when you did, it was all or nothing.”

Keith pondered this.  He hadn’t ever really considered having ‘committed’ to Shiro.  It all just seemed to happen naturally, each phase of their relationship flowing seamlessly into the next.  He had had doubts (who didn’t) but he didn’t think he had ever questioned their relationship, at least not to the point where he thought he wouldn’t want it. 

“Anyway,” Allura clapped her hands, startling Keith out of his thoughts.  “No need to squander the good day thinking of such remedial things!  Let’s get you ready and down the aisle, shall we?”

A few minutes later and Lance was ushered back into his room, sitting Keith in a chair and wiping all sorts of brushes and fine powders over his face, braiding his hair so it fell over his shoulder, a silver ribbon wound through the strands. 

Then Allura fitted him into his tuxedo.  It was stifling hot but Allura promised he could take the jacket off once the ceremony was over.  The last thing she did was force him to sit down so she could fit a comb into his hair, one that attached to a veil that when flipped over, fell delicately over his shoulders and to his waist. 

“Isn’t this a bit much?” Keith asked, looking at himself in the mirror.  He never minded getting dolled up, least of all for Shiro, but even as he looked over Lance’s work and what he had done to Keith’s hair, how the tuxedo fit his form and even how the veil seemed to frame his features, he wondered if it was all going a bit overboard.

“Nonsense!  This is a wedding!  No such thing!” Lance assured him.

“I’ve got fake eyelashes on?”

“And they complement your eye shape perfectly!”

The rest of the day was devoted to keeping Keith calm and relaxed so he wouldn’t sweat off his make-up.  Though as the day progressed, it became more apparent that it was Allura who needed the constant fanning and reassurance more than Keith. 

“Perhaps the yacht was a bad choice?  Would it be better in a church?  Maybe you would’ve preferred a beach wedding!?”

Keith squeezed her fingers and continued to wave a hand-held fan on her face.

“Allura, I don’t care where we get married!  Everything’s beautiful.  You’ve outdone yourself!”

When Allura’s panic attack was over, Pidge came into the room, speaking into a walkie-talkie and holding a clipboard.

“No!  I said no!” She was speaking loudly, a stern edge in her voice.  Keith had never heard her sound so serious.  “Not until he’s half way down the aisle!  It’ll look like a mess otherwise!”

She took her finger off the button and there was a crackling sound before an unfamiliar voice came from the other end.

“Have you considered letting them go during the kiss?”

Pidge scowled.

“Matt!  Who am I!?  Who are you talking to!?”

There was a pause.  ‘Matt’ seemed to be contemplating this seemingly simple question.

“Okay.  You’re right.”

“I always am.”

Pidge clipped the walkie talkie to her belt and turned to Keith.

“Right!  Ready to go Keith?”

 Keith nodded, though very confused.

He stood up to follow her out the door and down the hall.

“What are you not letting go until I’m halfway down the aisle?” Keith asked.

“Don’t worry!  It’ll be perfect!  Matt doesn’t know anything.”  She stopped and opened a door for him.  “Letting them go during the kiss would be a horrible idea!”

Keith only decided to trust her, and went through the door.

There, he was told to stand and wait until the signal, which would be radioed to Pidge on the other side of the next set of doors.  Keith nodded at the instructions.  Pidge then disappeared around a corner.

Allura showed up by his side, taking his hand and squeezing his fingers.

“Still not nervous?” she inquired.

Keith had to think.

Yes, he was fidgeting.  Yes, his stomach was all a flutter.  Yes, his heart was racing and his hands were starting to go clammy.  But, no, he was not nervous.  Just excited.  Excited to finally be tied to the love of his life, officially, spiritually, and in any way the laws of humanity could offer.  He was excited to be solely Shiro’s, for Shiro to be solely his.  He was excited to become a part of Shiro’s life, for better or for worse.

Then the doors in front of him were being pushed open and Keith had only a split second to take in his surroundings before being ushered forward. 

He was told the ceremony was going to be small; just Shiro and his closest friends and family.  Though he supposed ‘small’ to someone who ran an international drug cartel could be as little as two hundred people, which became apparent when he walked through the doors to see two hundred sets of eyes staring at him.

He flushed, bowing his head slightly, before Allura gave him a helping hand and pushed him forward.  He was looking at his feet as he began walking, trying to keep one foot in front of the other, until he heard Allura gasp beside him.

“Shiro looks spiffing!  Lance did a fabulous job.”

Keith’s head shot up.

And there he was.

Shiro had on a much more modest grey suit, with tail coats and gloves and a sparkling cream tie under his waist coat.  Lance had slicked back Shiro’s hair, put studs in his ears and gone over his eyes in a fine liner so they looked twice as sleek and sharp as they normally did.  Keith found himself holding his breath, and it took everything within him not to sprint for his lover.

Shiro was grinning at Keith too, eyes sparkling under the afternoon sun.  Keith couldn’t help the grin that came over his own features.  His heart beat rapidly in his chest, thundering against his ribs, seeming to pound in his ears.  He was surprised the guests couldn’t hear it.

Then there was a ruffling noise and the sound of wings beating as what had to be at least two dozen doves were released into the air above them.  White feathers seemed to float down to them, catching the light and glowing as they fell like soft, winter snow. 

Keith’s mind was whirring, spinning at a thousand miles a minute, and he was relieved when he finally reached the end of the aisle and could take the hand offered to him, gripping Shiro’s fingers and then moving to clutch at his arm.  Keith breathed out a sigh of relief he hadn’t tripped the entire time.

Shiro leant down to whisper to him.

“You good?”

Keith grinned up at him.

“The best.”

\---

**Then**

It had only been one week since they had become official.  One week since Keith’s step-brother had come barging into his apartment, demanding answers Keith couldn’t give and expectations Keith didn’t want to meet.  Now Keith was sitting outside a café, latte and egg-white omelette in front of him, tapping away on his phone as he waited for aforementioned step-brother to make an appearance.

He was only here at the expense of his brother’s request, being drawn in with the promise of a free breakfast and that his brother ‘had something to discuss with him’.  Keith knew his brother was only trying to wrangle him out by using his curiosity against him, except that Keith already knew what it was they needed to discuss. 

It was a testament to how much he had already grown as a person thanks to Shiro that he hadn’t bolted the other way, but had decided to tackle this head on.

 **To:** Gorgeous, Sexy and Mine  
_Leave it up to this douchebag to be late to a breakfast HE requested._

 **From:** Gorgeous, Sexy and Mine  
_Is Marcus still not there?_

_No.  I’m getting bored.  Can I leave yet?_

_I’m only around the corner, remember?  I can pick you up whenever you’d like. We can have a real breakfast._

Keith groaned.  What he wouldn’t give to take Shiro up on his offer.

_>. < Unfair, Shirogane!  Teasing me with the promise of yummy food with a yummy man ;)_

It took a moment, this time, for Shiro to text back.

_You’re adorable._

Keith flushed bright red.  Shiro had that effect on him, setting him on edge with the most basic of praise and compliments.  Maybe it was just that Keith had never been on the tail end of such genuine affection before?  Maybe it was because of how he felt for Shiro?  How Shiro felt for him?  A mixture of it all, bubbling under the surface and going off whenever Shiro called him beautiful, or told him good job, or wrapped strongs arms around him in a hug and squeezed him, tight enough for Keith to feel loved right down to the very core of his being.

He had never felt love like that before.  It thrilled him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Marcus claimed, exasperated, as he finally made an appearance.  He at least had the decency to look frazzled, hair a bit mussed, tie a bit loose.

Keith scowled.  It was fucking Saturday.  Who the hell wears a tie on a Saturday?

 **To:** Gorgeous, Sexy and Mine  
_Nvm.  He’s here…dammit._  
…  
That offer still on the table?

 **From:** Gorgeous, Sexy and Mine  
_I’ll be there in twenty._

Keith put his phone down.

Keith’s step-brother, the result of his father’s third marriage (the one that, unfortunately, stuck), was the total opposite of Keith.  He was small, but the fair skin, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes seemed to make him enough of a catch that he found himself successful (at what, to Keith, was still unclear).  He worked for some powerful company that made a lot of money, was engaged to his boss’ daughter and expected a big promotion in the coming months.

None of this had ever impressed Keith, and he wondered if that’s why Marcus was always up in his case about ‘taking care of him’ and ‘leading him down the right path’.  Keith had never asked to be close to him, had never wanted a relationship with him.  He had put up with him for his father’s sake, but now that he was grown and fled his family’s name, he had expected all those ties to drop dead.

Marcus was unrelenting in keeping himself in Keith’s life, however, probably a skill he had learnt along the way to becoming so successful.

Keith might have felt happy about this, that his family (by marriage or not) wanted so much to be a part of his life, and cared enough about him to continuously check on him, if it weren’t that Keith knew for a fact Marcus only kept tabs on him because Keith still had a large portion of his father’s holdings, was still entitled to his entire fortune should something happen to him. 

Marcus wanted to get his stubby fingers on Keith’s share of the family fortune, feeling as though he deserved it more than the gay, little party boy who hadn’t held a steady job since he was sixteen, who hadn’t wanted any part of the family business, who had disappeared for months on end conveniently around the time his father was remarried.

Marcus felt like Keith didn’t deserve to be in the family, and honestly, neither did Keith himself.

Yet his father, at the very least, was loyal to the end and no amount of brown nosing had ever changed that.  If only he was ever around to make that loyalty seem, in anyway, genuine.

Keith’s brother held all the exact qualities he had never liked in any of his family: they only ever treated people with respect if they wanted something from you.  As soon as you gave them that something, they’d scrape you off the bottom of your shoe like you were gum they had stepped in the day before.

Keith was sure he would stop hearing from Marcus the moment his father ever got around to writing him out of the will.

“Do you know where they get their fish from?” Marcus was saying, browsing the menu as he sat across from Keith.  “Is it fresh or frozen?”

Keith took a deep breath through his nose, let it out through his teeth.  He sat back in his chair and looked at his brother dead on.  It took a moment, but Marcus finally looked up from the menu.  He returned Keith’s pensive expression.

“You know I can’t see your eyes through those gaudy sunglasses, right?” Marcus was saying, trying to go back to looking at the menu, like Keith’s stoic sensibility didn’t affect him.

Keith pushed his glasses up his nose using his middle finger.

“I need them.  We’re outside.”

“You could’ve sat inside.”

“I don’t like sitting inside.”

“Just choose a seat next to the window.”

“Then I would’ve still needed the glasses and, as you should know, wearing sunglasses inside is tacky.”

“ _That’s_ tacky?”

“Prada can never be tacky.”

Marcus slammed the menu shut and threw it down on the table.  A few heads turned to look at them curiously.  Keith didn’t flinch.

“Keith!”

“Marcus.”

“Keith, I asked you to meet me for a reason,” Marcus began, like his entire plot had somehow been subtle.  Keith had to stifle a snort.  “This man you’re seeing?  Shirogane?  I don’t like him.”

Keith let out a laugh.  It was loud and continued to attract the attention of the observers from before.

“You don’t even know him,” Keith said, for once, calmly.

He was surprising even himself.  That he hadn’t become defensive or passive or even angry, though he was unbelievably irritated.  He hoped that when he saw Shiro and told him of their conversation, that he would be proud.  That he’d say Keith did a good job of keeping his emotions in check.  That he should feel proud he was getting better at talking first, punching later.

Then he hoped Shiro would reward him for his patience.

Patience yields focus? No.  Patience yields a hot dick up his ass.

“And you do?” Marcus accused.

“Yes.  I do.  Believe it or not, I’ve known Shiro for almost six weeks now.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.  I’ve known you for eight years and I still don’t know anything about you.”

Keith glared, took a deep breath, and continued.

“Shiro has taken me out on twelve official dates, not including the nights we’ve spent together in between.  He’s bought me flowers, drinks, dinner, but knows I don’t like chocolate.  We stay in every Friday night because he works late and likes to be asleep before eleven o’clock.  He has his own house just outside the city, but rarely stays there because he rents it out to his sister for a good price.  His birthday is February 29th but he celebrates it on the 28th when it’s not a leap year.  He’s allergic to most flowers.  His favourite movie is the original Karate Kid.  He has financial stability, rarely drinks, never smokes, works out five times a week, more if he can make the time, and has made me feel better about myself than anyone has in a really long time.”

Keith was out of breath, but not once had he ever broken eye contact with his brother and he didn’t need to take his sunglasses off to make that apparent.

Marcus was rendered speechless.

“I know you and the rest of my family have this whole thing about seeing me happy,” Keith continued.  “Like it’s something ground breaking, and if you or my father or his wife aren’t the instigators than it must be ‘unhealthy’ and ‘problematic’, but I’m telling you, Shiro is anything but.  He’s wonderful and smart and charming and…”

“Holy shit,” Marcus finally made a noise.  “You’re in love with him.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to remain speechless.

“Excuse me?” Keith scowled.

That was impossible.

Sure, he adored Shiro, was slightly too obsessed with him, wanted to spend every waking minute with him (and every sleeping minute, if he was being totally honest with himself).  He loved his company, loved his job, loved his fucking gorgeous face.  But loved _him?_  

No.  Keith didn’t fall in love.

He didn’t.

Love was for those people who watched way too many romantic comedies, read Twilight and thought it was entertaining, felt the need to make their life entirely about one other person.  Keith had never wanted to be a part of anybody’s life but his own.  What Shiro and Keith had was fun.  It was seamless.  It was easy.

It was not love.

“You’re in love with him!  Shit, Keith, it’s only been a few weeks!”

Keith reached up, finally pulling his sunglasses from his eyes so he could show Marcus how dead-set he was on making it clear he was not in love with Takashi Shirogane.

“I am _not_ in love with him.”

This did nothing to appease his brother, however.

“Keith, be reasonable!  Do you honestly think father will approve of him?”

“Leave my dad out of this!”

“Do you think he’ll be invited over for Thanks Giving-“

“ _I’m_ not even invited over for Thanks Giving.”

“-or asked to be in the Christmas card?”

“Fuck, I hope not.  Those things are embarrassing.”

“What about father’s company?”

“I’m _not_ in love with Sh-“

A loud honk interrupted them. 

Keith turned to see Shiro’s car pulled up to the curb, the passenger window rolled down so Keith could see Shiro’s face.  His eyes twinkled as he smiled at Keith, waved at him.  Keith couldn’t help his own smile sliding onto his lips, giving a small wave back.  He held up a finger to signal another minute, Shiro nodded at him and put the car in park.

When Keith turned back to Marcus, his brother was giving him an odd look.  A one of total disbelief.

Keith was picking up his wallet and sliding his sunglasses back on. 

“What?”

“Not in love with him, huh?”

Keith rolled his eyes, exaggerating it by flicking his hair over his shoulder as he stood up.

“Please, I’m in love with his car.  That’s all.”

But as Keith walked off to Shiro’s car he knew the words were fickle, fragile, and a lie.  He knew Marcus had hit the nail on the head, and even though it might not have been the total truth, it was very quickly becoming just that. 

Because Keith’s heart soared when he saw Shiro, leapt into his throat when Shiro spoke to him, flew out his chest when Shiro had an arm around him, or stroked his cheek, or petted his hair.  Keith’s actions became one of influence, no longer of consequence, and they were shaped and moulded to fit seamlessly against Shiro.  Yet he had never felt forced by Shiro’s hand, nor had he ever felt manipulated. 

His veins thrummed and his pulse quickened, his brain became a haze of fog and smoke, like he was looking at a picture that had been taken out of focus.  Then Shiro would walk into his line of sight, and he’d become the only element that was crystal clear. 

He knew this had nothing to do with the black Lamborghini Keith was climbing into.  He could be climbing into a jeep from the seventies and he’d still feel that unfamiliar tickle in his veins as Shiro leant over the console to kiss him hello on the cheek.

Keith slams the door shut and Shiro takes off, the rumble of the car filling the comfortable silence.  Keith places a hand on Shiro’s thigh, trailing it up the inner seem of his dark jeans.  Shiro stops his ministrations by taking his fingers and squeezing them, pulling them up so Shiro can kiss Keith’s knuckles.  Keith ducks his head.  Blushes.

“So, how was it?” Shiro asks, pulling onto the freeway.

Keith ponders this.

Shiro will know if he’s lying, and he doesn’t want to lie anyway, but the stark realisations the lunch brought to him were too premature even for them.  So, he gave Shiro a smile, gave him some crap about ‘the usual’ (which it basically was) and bathed in Shiro’s affections the rest of the way home.

\---

New Years was two months later, and Keith realised his feelings may not have been premature at all.

**\---**

**Now**

The ceremony was complete without a hitch.  Everyone showered them in party poppers, rice and streamers as they walked back down the aisle, hand in hand, stopping every five steps to share another kiss.  Eventually they managed to get back inside after several screams from Pidge of ‘my virgin eyes!’

Keith wasn’t sure how weddings worked beyond the ceremony and then getting plastered at the reception, but Shiro pulled him down the hall and into one of the suites.  Keith managed to note Shiro’s suitcase in the corner and the remnants of his breakfast from this morning before Keith was being encompassed by a thick arm, soft fingers pulling the veil away from his neck, hot lips descending onto the skin there.

Keith angled his head, leaning back against his husband’s chest.

“You.” Kiss.  “Are.”  Kiss.  “Gorgeous.”  Another kiss; this one wetter than the others.  Keith moaned.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Keith muttered, turning his head so he could kiss Shiro full on the mouth.  He twisted, looping his arms around a firm neck and stuck his tongue down Shiro’s throat.  Shiro spluttered slightly, taking a rocking step back before managing to steady himself and keep both arms firmly wrapped around Keith’s waist as they made-out against the door.

“You’re my favourite goddamn person in the world,” Keith gasped, pressing kiss after searing kiss to his husband’s mouth, missing a few times so the kisses landed along Shiro’s chin and jaw, which only made them both chuckle.  Shiro slid a metal hand up Keith’s back, fisting his hair, keeping him in place.

They gazed into each other’s eyes, happiness reflected on both their faces.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” Shiro breathed.  Keith takes a shuddering breath, burying his face in Shiro’s neck and somehow wiggling even closer in his arms.

Shiro laughs, and the sound brings so much joy to Keith he feels like he’s floating on air.

After they finished making out for a moment longer, they made their way out of the room and back to the deck of the yacht, where fairy lights were strung up over silver and crimson ribbons and garments hung from every corner and surface.  The tables were set simply but elegantly, small candles lighting each dinner place, a dance floor in the centre with a DJ station up on the stage.

“And for the first time, Mr and Mr Shirogane!” Coran’s voice sounded as they walked out, hands still clasped firmly together.  At the sound of applause, Keith couldn’t help but duck his head again, flushing against Shiro’s arm.  Shiro only chuckled, kissing the top of his hair.

When the crowd started in on them and Keith couldn’t begin to recognise any of the faces in front of him, he kept as close as he could to Shiro’s side.  Shiro in turn kept a firm hand around Keith’s waist, greeting everyone with a charming smile and giving off names and positions to Keith, who couldn’t keep track even if he had been writing them down.  He hoped Shiro didn’t actually expect him to remember any of these people.

“You don’t actually expect me to remember any of these people, do you?” Keith whispered into Shiro’s ear once the crowd began to thin.

“No, honey, of course not,” Shiro answered, his breath tickling the side of Keith’s face as he spoke.  “It was Alfor’s idea to invite our more prestigious clients.  Makes them feel closer to the family.  More willing to deal with us.”

Keith snorted.

“So, this is a business endeavour?”

Shiro looked a little embarrassed.

“Yes,” he admitted abashedly, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

Keith only laughed.

“I don’t mind.  The only guest I care about showed up right on time.”

Shiro gave him a puzzling look.

“Which guest is that?”

Keith leant up to kiss the scar on Shiro’s nose as his way of an answer.  Shiro flushed even redder, stooping down to place a firmer kiss on Keith’s lips.

“Anyway,” Keith continued when their lips separated with a smack.  “Who’s Alfor?”

It was then that a broad man with silver hair and sparkling eyes was making his way through the crowd, laughing and grinning at the various people who waved at him.  A man with narrow eyes and a sleek look followed behind, albeit silently.  Though to Keith, the man’s gait looked more like a stalk, like a panther creeping through the den of its enemies.

Both men approached them, the silent one eyeing Keith almost hungrily.  Keith shuddered when their eyes met. 

Keith clutched at Shiro’s hand.

“Well if it isn’t the happy couple!” The man with the silver beard held out his arms, clasping Shiro in a hug and clapping him harshly on the back.  Shiro coughed.

“It’s good to see you, Sir,” he croaked, giving Keith an amused smile, like this was familiar and expected.  Keith giggled.

“Congratulations to you both, Shiroganes,” the sleek man said in a deep voice that resonated authority.

“So, this is Keith,” the other one was saying, crouching down to look Keith in the eyes, getting up close and personal. 

Keith just laughed nervously.

“Yes, this is my husband.” Shiro explained.  “Keith, this is Alfor Altea, Allura’s father, and also our boss.  This is his partner, Zarkon.”

Keith took another closer look at the men in front of him, thanking to high heavens he hadn’t said anything embarrassing.

“Pleasure to meet you, Keith,” Alfor gave Keith a warm smile, and it relaxed Keith enough that he remembered his manners, holding out his hand to shake. 

As soon as his palm was empty, however, Zarkon took Alfor’s place.

“Yes, a pleasure.”

He said it so finitely, like an order, though what he was ordering, Keith didn’t know.  Keith looked up into his eyes, his irises seeming to glow violet under the setting sun, boring into Keith, expecting an answer that would not displease him.

Keith gulped.

“Y-yeah.  Nice to meet you too.”

Zarkon dropped Keith’s hand, but kept his eyes.

“I was impressed with your work in the Bahamas last week,” Zarkon was saying.  “You were quick, efficient, light on your feet.  You fought brutally and without prejudice.”

Keith looked to Shiro, who was totally distracted now by something Alfor was saying.  He blanched.  He didn’t know how to handle himself in front of important people, how to not do something that could potentially embarrass his husband and everyone else on this boat. 

“Thanks,” Keith only said, too afraid to say much else.

“It normally takes years to ingrain that kind of mindset into our dealers; it takes a lot of discipline.  You fight well.”

Keith clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep himself steady. 

“Well, that asshole was in the way,” he managed to say.  “It was either him or Shiro, and I know which one I’d prefer sending off a hotel balcony.”

To his surprise, Zarkon smirked at his answer, a glimmer of light flashing across his already glittering eyes.

“Indeed.”

Shiro, thankfully, chose that moment to make his way back over to Keith, sliding his arms around Keith’s waist.  Keith let out a rush of air.

“You know, I run a sub-group of dealers deep within the cartel,” Zarkon was saying.  “They deal with much more…tiresome…buyers.  Those who don’t tend to do well under the financial strain this business sometimes invokes.”

“Wow.  A sub-group.  That’s…wonderful.”

What was he even supposed to say to that anyway?

“You’d be perfect for them,” Zarkon continued. 

Shiro’s arms suddenly went stiff and fierce around Keith’s waist, cutting off his breathing.  Keith gave Shiro a worried look.

“Keith isn’t joining the Galra, Zarkon,” Shiro’s voice was firm, dark and threatening.  “I’m sorry, but I need him here, on my team.”

Zarkon only gave Shiro a bored look, like he dealt with this regularly.

“Have you considered he could strive under my supervision?  That, under your care, he may not be reaching his full potential.  I could really make something of him.”

Shiro was now pulling Keith behind his back, blocking Zarkon’s hungry gaze.

“Or he could die under your supervision,” Shiro was angry now.  Keith clutched at the back of Shiro’s jacket.  “I know how you train your ‘soldiers’.  How you treat them.  Keith isn’t a piece of meat for you to throw around, for you to torture and manipulate as you wish.  He’s a person, he’s my husband, and you won’t lay a hand on him.”

Zarkon went uncomfortably quiet, narrowing his eyes further at Shiro. 

The silence seemed to stretch on for hours, making Keith nervous, wondering how far back the history between these men went, what they were capable of doing to each other.

“You’re a failed experiment, Shirogane,” Zarkon said, his voice like ice, ripping right through Shiro and into Keith’s very core.  “And yet, you are my most successful failed experiment.  Don’t let your inadequacy rub off on someone who could actually wield the power I can give.”

Shiro growled at this.

“Zarkon!  What did I tell you!?” Alfor was coming back over now, Allura and the rest of the gang close behind.  He clapped Zarkon on the shoulder, effectively breaking the tension that had grown between them.  “No business deals today!  This is a holiday!  A celebration!”

Zarkon finally looked away from the newlyweds.

“Of course, Sir.  Why don’t we go find the bar?”

Alfor chuckled.

“Now you’re talking my language!  I’ll be off, Allura!  Don’t be a stranger!”

Allura waved her father good-bye as they strode off.  Then when they were out of ear shot, she quickly turned to Shiro.

“I’m so sorry, Shiro.  I had no idea he’d try something today of all days!”

Shiro seemed to be coming back to himself, his shoulders relaxing, his frown dissipating.  Keith wasn’t sure what to do, how to approach this side of Shiro he hadn’t seen before. 

“It’s fine, Allura,” Shiro said, calmly, wordlessly taking Keith’s hand. 

Keith looked up at him, trying to meet his eyes.

Shiro met them, eventually, with a show of reluctance Keith didn’t like.

“What was all that about?” Keith asked, already enveloping Shiro in a much needed hug on both their parts.  Shiro tucked Keith’s head under his chin, his hand cupping the back of Keith’s head, trying to cover as much of his smaller frame as he could.

It still wasn’t enough.

“Zarkon and I have a dark history,” Shiro started.  Keith refrained from snorting into Shiro’s jacket, like that wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world.  “I worked for him once, we didn’t always see eye to eye, and this always landed me in a lot of trouble.”

Keith rubbed his hands over Shiro’s back, contemplating these words.  Then, all at once, a few things clicked into place.

He pulled back enough so he could look Shiro in the eyes, bringing a hand up to trace the scar on his nose.

“He gave you this?  Didn’t he?”

For a moment, Shiro’s eyes flashed with painful memories.  He looked sad and beaten, like he had been told something about himself he knew was true yet still never wanted to hear.  Keith didn’t know how to make the look go away.

“Yes.  He did.”

Keith looked to Shiro’s arm, his right one, where he knew a bionic replacement for a lost limb was hiding under a grey coat. 

Did Zarkon give Shiro that too?

“Hey, guys,” Lance was calling everyone to attention, hoping to lift the uncomfortable air that had grown around them.  “I know Zarkon is an asshole and everything, but shouldn’t we be, ya know, getting plastered?  Having fun?  Celebrating the fact that you guys finally managed to tie the knot?”

Shiro chuckled, stroking Keith’s hair one last time before taking his hand and leading him away.

“An excellent idea!”

Keith knew Shiro was trying to change the subject for the better.  It wasn’t going to do them any good to dwell on whatever just happened, when Lance was right and they were, indeed, supposed to be celebrating.  Keith, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that Zarkon had left amongst their group.

“What?  Shiro, no!  I said no dancing!” Keith suddenly realised where they were going.

“Bullshit!  You can dance!” Shiro successfully dragged Keith onto the dance floor and gathered him in large arms.  “Remember how we met?”

Shiro had their foreheads touching, whispering, so only Keith could hear, but both could revel in the memories of that night.

“That was different,” Keith was saying, though was matching Shiro’s steps as the music became louder and the bass reverberated across the yacht’s deck.  “I was already drunk!  At least get me tipsy!”

“I got you covered!” Lance was saying, sashaying over with two glasses of champagne. 

Keith grabbed his and downed it one gulp.

He handed it back to Lance and watched him put it down on the closest table before grabbing his girlfriend and bringing their hips together.  They began an intricate number of steps that involved mostly hip work and keeping eye contact, Allura tipping her hair over her shoulders and following Lance’s lead.

“Show offs,” Keith muttered.

Shiro chuckled, leaning down to whisper into Keith’s ear.

“Wanna show them how it’s done?”

Keith grinned up at his husband.

The dance contest ended as a tie, but only because, and Keith wouldn’t ever admit this even on his death bed, Lance and Allura let them.  They had obviously been practicing that dance for weeks, and though it got a little too suggestive toward the end even by Keith’s standards, he had to admit, their bodies worked beautifully together.

“That’s it,” Pidge was muttering as they made their way over to the table, sweating slightly even though Keith had finally found a chance to rip his jacket off.  “I’m no longer innocent.  I’ve seen too much.”

“Yeah, guys, even I have to admit, that was slightly dicey for a formal event,” Hunk agreed.

“It’s called the samba!” Lance had his arms wrapped tightly around Allura, smug written all over his posture.  “It’s all about the sex appeal!”

“What appeal?” Pidge snarked.

Their bickering only made everything more familiar, more homey, and even when their bickering continued through Keith and Shiro’s kiss, as demanded by the guests, Keith could only think to himself that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Food was served, cake was cut, toasts were made, the dance floor evolved from a classy affair to bright lights and more fast paced music.  Keith, who declared himself sufficiently drunk enough, screamed in glee when Fergie came on and pulled Shiro back toward the dance floor.

“Fergie, Keith?” Lance called, his judgement evident.  “Really!?”

“Fergie ruled my young, adolescent life!” Keith shouted back.  “Don’t you hate on Fergie!”

They danced some more, ate some more, drank _a lot_ more, and pretty soon the moon was high in the sky, most of the guests had begun treading home or to rooms they had hired for the night. 

Shiro and Keith had found a love seat to nestle up on, Keith basically in his husband’s lap, nuzzling his jaw and kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth over and over again.  Shiro was grinning from ear to ear, keeping one hand firmly on Keith’s ass.

“I love you,” Keith mumbled, his voice slightly slurred thanks to the champagne and cocktails.  “I love you so much.”

Shiro chuckled, turning his head to nose Keith’s veil out of the way and place a warm kiss to Keith’s neck.

“I love you, too, babydoll.”

Keith giggled.  Down right, high-pitched, school girl giggled.

“Shiro, Keith,” Allura was padding over, having dumped her heals on a seat when Keith had demanded she rock the Nutbush with him.  “The chopper is ready.”

Keith shot up.

“Chopper?  Like?  Helicopter chopper?”

Shiro laughed at Keith’s enthusiasm.

Sure enough, Allura had meant a helicopter.  A sleek, black one emblazoned with the Altea family crest, waiting for them on the roof of the yacht.  Keith was jumping up and down when he caught sight of it.

“Baby, I need you to stay still so I can actually get you in the vehicle before you fall over in excitement!” Shiro wrestled Keith into his seat, climbed in after him and pecked him on the lips.

“We’ll see you all in a few weeks!” Shiro called out to everyone who had come up to see them off.

Keith waved also, hair a fluffy mess, poking out from under his veil and headset. 

“I can’t believe you ruined my braid!” Lance cried indignantly.  “I put enough hairspray in there to gas a moose!”

They laughed as Shiro slammed the door shut and nodded to the pilot, who, with a twist of his stick, got them off the yacht and flying out over the ocean.

Keith watched in wonder as the moonlight bounced off the waves, the stars enveloping the yacht as it disappeared behind them, the vast sea and sky melding into one large canvas Keith couldn’t take his eyes off.  That is, until, something much more beautiful shifted next to him, catching his attention.

Keith looked to his husband, caught his sparkling grey eyes, nestled into the arm he had around Keith’s waist and sighed.

“Good wedding?” Shiro asked, softly, as to not disturb the quiet that had finally settled over them.

“The best.” Keith answered, tired now, leaning heavily on Shiro as he shut his eyes.  “We should do that again sometime.”

Shiro chuckled.

“Sure, babydoll.  We can get married again anytime you want.”

Keith hummed.

“Next week then?”

Shiro laughed, stroking what he could reach of Keith’s hair, twisting to kiss his forehead.  Keith sighed into Shiro’s touch, held his hand and vowed never to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to bother me on
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.enders-turn.tumblr.com)


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